


Your Body's Making Promises

by fridaysblues (taemin)



Series: Body Work / Performing Arts AU [4]
Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Art School, Alternate Universe - Classical Music, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Conservatory, Alternate Universe - Dance, Alternate Universe - Music School, Bittersweet, Drunk Sex, M/M, Performing Arts, Sex Positions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-16
Updated: 2014-05-16
Packaged: 2018-03-26 08:00:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,926
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3843232
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/taemin/pseuds/fridaysblues
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Baekhyun wants to use Jongin's flexibility to his advantage in the bedroom. Jongin's happy to indulge him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Your Body's Making Promises

Baekhyun's been practicing for his final recital since last semester. It's all he's been talking about since the start of this one, too.

Now that it's upon them, Jongin feels more nervous than Baekhyun seems to be. His knee jiggles impatiently from his seat in the back row, attention divided between the LCD screen of the video camera he's got set up next to him and Baekhyun's meticulous last-minute micro-adjustments on stage. The monstrous bouquet of roses beneath Jongin's seat rustles quietly with his movement. He leans down and shifts it aside, hoping Baekhyun hadn't seen him sneak it inside and stash it.

"Need any help?" he calls, finally, rubbing his sweaty palms on his trousers. Baekhyun looks up from his position, doubled over the piano bench as he drags it a few millimeters to the left, and then returns it to its original position.

"You can come here and blow me. You know, for good luck."

Jongin snorts. "Camera's recording, you know."

Baekhyun looks up and pushes his sweaty hair out of his eyes. He's got an impish look about him. "You never had a problem with that before."

The blush spreads across Jongin's body, right down to his toes. "Shut up," he says, and wrinkles his nose when Baekhyun sticks out his tongue in reply.

 

 

Jongin's not ready for this. The implications behind Baekhyun's senior recital: he's _really_ graduating, he's _really_ leaving for good this time. Next year Jongin will move back in with Sehun and Baekhyun will be a voice on the other end of the phone, reduced to a guest-starring role in Jongin's life, at least for a little while.

They haven't really talked about it in great detail yet, but Baekhyun's off to the States for a two-year performance degree. Jongin mapped it out once on his phone, late at night. Northwestern's a 14-hour plane ride away. Too far for a weekend quickie.

"Hey," Baekhyun says, snapping Jongin out of his brooding. "Studs."

Jongin blinks dumbly. "Huh?"

Baekhyun reaches past Jongin and snatches up a fistful of tiny, black tuxedo studs from the suit bag hanging behind him. "Dancers. Bunch of muscle-heads," he begins, and laughs into Jongin's mouth when he kisses him in retaliation.

 

 

Jongin leaves him backstage after that, despite his urge to stay and mess up Baekhyun's concert attire by pushing Baekhyun up against the old upright piano in the green room to rut against his thigh. The recital hall's maybe a quarter full—mostly Baekhyun's classmates, although he spies Baekhyun's parents sitting towards the front and swings by to greet them on his way back to his seat.

The lights have already dimmed when Chanyeol slithers into the seat next to Jongin. A pretty girl follows him— _Yejin_ , a singer from the jazz club in Gwangju at which Chanyeol's quartet's been playing the past few months. She beams at Jongin and waves a shy hello, fingers scrunching. He nods back.

"Sorry I'm late," Chanyeol whispers. "Traffic was a _nightmare_ getting into the city—"

Jongin holds his finger to his lips and points at the camera. Chanyeol nods, mimics the action back at Jongin and winks.

 

 

"You're not turning pages?" Chanyeol asks during the fifteen-minute intermission. Jongin fiddles with the SD card in the camera and shoots him a withering look.

"He wouldn't let me," he admits. "I always get lost."

Chanyeol laughs.

 

 

Baekhyun plays flawlessly. Even the Tchaikovsky, the concerto he's been losing sleep over, goes off without a hitch. Not that Jongin's surprised—his wrists have been in relatively good shape, considering his mobility issues from the year before. Baekhyun had been diligent about his physical therapy, and started practicing the program for this recital back in the fall. Not the long, all-night sessions of years past, but reasonable stretches of time plunking through mazurkas and sonatas and etudes while Jongin studied in the back (or dozed—usually dozed, if Jongin was being completely honest with himself).

At the program's conclusion Baekhyun stands, smile stretched from ear to ear, and bows half a dozen times before he scuttles off backstage. The applause continues, and Baekhyun reappears, nodding graciously until the applause finally dies down.

"I wanted to thank you all for coming," he begins. "My parents, who drove all the way from Bucheon to listen to me when they've been listening to me since I was five. My friends—"

"Friend! Singular!" Chanyeol booms, hands cupped around his mouth. Polite laughter, and Baekhyun grins up at the back of the audience.

"—and all of the studio members who came, even though I know you had to, for the credit. But I'm glad you're all here anyway!" He locks eyes with Jongin, who feels his heart thud crazily in his chest, the way it always does when Baekhyun looks at him like that. "So, I have a last-minute addition. One of my favorite pieces. If you'll allow."

Chanyeol whoops. The rest of the audience claps enthusiastically and Baekhyun takes his seat at the piano once more. Rolls his wrists, and places them on the keys.

The minute the first chords of _Oblivion_ ring out, Jongin drops his chin to his chest, overwhelmed at the sudden callback to the first time they met. The reason Jongin had followed the sound of a piano playing in the music building late at night. The reason he'd spied on Baekhyun, met him. Pursued him, kissed him, and finally—loved him.

Baekhyun leans away from the keys in a _ritardando_ and takes the opportunity to glance up, lips pursed with concentration. His eyes twinkle. Jongin resists the urge to get up and climb down the rows of the seats to get to him.

 

 

It takes an infuriating amount of time for Jongin to get some time alone with Baekhyun. There's the reception afterwards—then dinner with Baekhyun's parents, who keep pouring the alcohol and praising Baekhyun's success—then to a bar, where Chanyeol and Yejin have been waiting to buy them _more_ drinks.

It's past midnight when they start the walk back to their apartment. It's a nice night, after all—early summer, balmy, and Jongin's thrumming from too many shots to notice anyway. Baekhyun's still in his tuxedo, bow tie askew but still tied, even after all these hours. He likes the attention he gets when he goes out in it. Jongin doesn't mind much, because there's something about the way Baekhyun fills out a suit that just makes him want to get him out of it as quickly as possible.

Baekhyun's giggling about something when Jongin turns to him abruptly and says, "I can't believe you played it."

The smile creeps across Baekhyun's face. "I wanted it to be a surprise," he breezes, fumbling in his pocket for the keys.

"But when did you _practice_?" Jongin insists, pushing past Baekhyun into their darkened apartment. Baekhyun kicks off his shoes and stands in his socked feet, swaying a little with the alcohol in his bloodstream.

"Only needed a couple run-throughs. I know that one better than anything," he says, hand going for the tie at his throat. Jongin steps forward, bare feet slapping against the wooden floor, and intercepts him.

"Let me," Jongin murmurs, pulling the bow tie loose from its knot. Baekhyun's breath huffs across Jongin's face. It smells sharp and antiseptic from the soju they've been drinking all night. Jongin leans in anyway and kisses him. Baekhyun melts into it, pulling Jongin in by the hips. He's already half-hard, straining through his trousers. He swivels his hips a little, just to make sure Jongin gets the picture.

"I've been wanting to do that all night," Baekhyun says when they break apart. He holds out his hands expectantly. Jongin gets to work on the cufflinks and sets them gently on the side table. They're the nice ones—sterling silver and mother-of-pearl, maybe the nicest thing Baekhyun owns. A gift from his grandfather.

"Why didn't you?" Jongin asks, pushing his hands inside the shoulders of Baekhyun's jacket, sliding it off in one fluid motion. He tosses it aside. It misses the couch and lands on the floor with a loud thump.

"Careful—"

"You need to get this dry-cleaned anyway," Jongin says, reeling him in by the suspenders. Baekhyun kisses him back, languidly, hands roaming the small of Jongin's back, down to his ass. Jongin moans loudly when Baekhyun's fingers sink in, grabbing a handful through the fabric of his paints.

"Off," Baekhyun says. "What are you doing, standing around kissing me when I've been thinking about you naked since before the recital."

"Oh really?" Jongin asks, already uncinching his belt. Baekhyun's hands drop from Jongin's body and get to work unfastening the tuxedo studs, dropping them one by one on the table next to the cufflinks. They clack together quietly.

"Do you know how distracting you are? Do you know how many finger slips I had?"

"I didn't notice," Jongin says. Released from the belt, his trousers slouch to the floor. He kicks out of them and gets to work squirming out of his nice sweater. "Why don't you show me these finger slips?" he jokes through the neck hole of the sweatshirt, aiming for suggestive. It falls flat.

Baekhyun pauses, shirt half-unbuttoned, exposing the shelf of his collarbones, his undershirt damp with perspiration. "Really?" he laughs. "A million fingering jokes and you chose that one."

"Shut up," Jongin says, pulling at the buttons on Baekhyun's shirt. They pop open in quick succession. Baekhyun leans forward and laughs into the crook of Jongin's neck, body warm and lax.

"You're cute," he murmurs. "You can stick around. Even if your jokes do suck."

They make it back to the bed—eventually, after Baekhyun backs Jongin against the doorframe and sinks to his knees to suck him off. Jongin warns him off before he comes and muscles him on top of the covers, tongue laving at the pulse point in his neck until Baekhyun shudders from overstimulation and pushes Jongin away to look for the lube.

"Roll over," he says. Jongin obeys, allowing his face to drop forwards into the pillows. Baekhyun kisses his way down Jongin's spine, nosing at the dimples in the small of his back—soft, nipping kisses, more of a suggestion of teeth than anything painful. It distracts Jongin from the momentary sting as Baekhyun's finger works its way inside of him, slippery with too much lube.

"You were good tonight," Jongin says, panting a little bit when Baekhyun's fingers graze his prostate. He tries to work his hips against the bed, desperately seeking relief for the erection trapped between his stomach and the bed. Baekhyun responds by sinking his teeth into the plush round of Jongin's asscheek. "Ow!"

"Stay still," Baekhyun says, kissing the spot where Jongin's skin stings with fresh memory of the bite. And then, "Just good?"

Another finger. It's a tight stretch. Jongin gasps out loud, long and low, like it takes all of the air in his lungs. "Amazing. Brilliant. So, so good— _hyung_ ," he breaks off, whining. "Yes, good."

Baekhyun sits back, rolls on a condom and wipes his hands on the bedspread. Jongin wrinkles his nose.

"Really?" he pants, feeling woozy and lightheaded from all the blood currently occupying his groin. "There are tissues—"

"You coming?" Baekhyun asks, making a lewd gesture at his dick with both hands. "Or am I going to do this all by myself?"

Jongin rolls his eyes. "Can't we just keep it in the bed?"

"No. I want to try this," Baekhyun wheedles, pulling Jongin back on his feet to crowd him against the wall. Jongin puts his hand out, fingers splayed, bracing himself.

They first saw this position in a porno— _Strictly Balls Room_ , some video Sehun had linked to Jongin for a laugh because of the dancing "plot". Baekhyun saw it and sat forward so fast he nearly bounced off the couch.

"We're doing that," he'd said, eyeing Jongin's pelvis like he was trying to gauge exactly how flexible he was.

Jongin bends slightly to let Baekhyun slip inside and gasps into his forearm. "Shit," he breathes, eyes scrunching shut as he reacclimates to the feeling of fullness. "It's been a while."

"Are you complaining?" Baekhyun demands, nosing at the nape of Jongin's neck to bury a kiss in his hairline. "Come on, _Baryshnikov_ ," he drawls, invoking his old pet name for Jongin. Jongin huffs out a laugh and pushes back to a standing position. Baekhyun sways, hand coming to rest on Jongin's hip for support.

"Are you going to fall?" Jongin asks, twisting slightly to look at him over his shoulder. Baekhyun gives him a _look_ , then—more gracefully than Jongin was expecting, considering this is fairly athletic sex and Baekhyun usually tended towards the quick and easy—lifts Jongin's leg up by the ankle and hoists it onto his shoulder.

Instantly Jongin feels the difference. It's _amazing._ The way Baekhyun slides deeper and then pulls himself to the hilt using Jongin's hips as leverage makes Jongin's eyes roll back in his head a little bit.

"Oh, _fuck_ ," Jongin says. Baekhyun starts moving his hips in slow, steady thrusts and Jongin's muscles quiver with exertion the way they usually do after an extended rehearsal. Jongin groans again, smothering the noise into his bicep. He can't even think about what the neighbors are hearing right now—this is the shared wall, and he's having a hard time keeping his voice at a respectable volume for this hour.

"Yeah," Baekhyun agrees, voice straining. He nuzzles into the side of Jongin's face, unable to reach his mouth, scattering sloppy, open-mouthed kisses down Jongin's jaw line.

"So fucking good," Jongin groans, reaching down to touch himself. He barely has to thumb at his cockhead before he feels his orgasm crest over him and he comes, hard, through his fingers. Baekhyun's thrusts become faster, more erratic, until he's following Jongin over the edge, Jongin still balanced on his toes in a perfect arabesque.

 

 

The sun's high in the sky and peeking through the cracks in the blinds when Jongin rolls over the next morning and nearly falls off the edge of the mattress. Baekhyun's gone. Eyes still closed, he pats over the other side of the bed and finds it similarly unoccupied.

This isn't unusual—Baekhyun's always slipping out at the crack of dawn to go practice. Jongin rolls over into Baekhyun's spot and starts to drift back to sleep when he hears someone come in through the front door of the apartment. Then, a moment later, the bedroom door. The knob grates slightly as it turns, releasing the catch. Jongin doesn't bother rolling over when the bed dips under the weight of Baekhyun's body.

"You're still sleeping?" Baekhyun asks, hand tracing soothing circles into the skin between Jongin's shoulder blades. Jongin grunts and rolls over to catch Baekhyun's hand, face screwing up with effort as he tries to will himself awake.

"Not anymore."

"It's nearly noon."

"Mmph," Jongin grunts, closing his eyes again. "I'm worn out from last night."

"Hey," Baekhyun says, pulling at the pillow underneath Jongin's head, "I played a world class recital last night—entertained my parents like the charming son I am—pleasured the _fuck_ out of you—"

Jongin snorts. "So modest, hyung."

"—I _did_ , don't even fucking deny it, that was such a good idea and you know it—and I _still_ got up in time for a morning practice session. I even picked up lunch on my way back from the music building."

Jongin opens his eyes, still squinting against the brightness of the sunlight.

"Ah. I thought that'd get you up." Baekhyun laughs. "You're so predictable. One mention of food and there you are. I'm afraid I'm going to lose a finger to your appetite one of these days."

Jongin laughs with him, fingers playing absently with the knob of Baekhyun's wrist until the laughter peters out and they're just staring at each other. Jongin thinks about how few of these mornings he has left with Baekhyun and feels an overwhelming sense of fondness towards Baekhyun, cocky assertions and all.

"I'm going to miss you," he murmurs. "Next year." Baekhyun's smile falters a little.

"Random."

"But true."

"Me too, though," he says finally, a mischievous spark coming into his eyes. "I'm never going to find an ass as nice as yours in grad school."

" _Hyung._ "

"I know, I know," Baekhyun says. "You got all serious. It's weirding me out. Don't do that. Not now," he says, leaning in to brush his mouth over Jongin's temple. "We'll figure it out, okay? I promise. But later." He bounces up onto his feet and pulls at Jongin's wrist. "Come on."

Jongin winces when he gets to his feet. The rotator muscles in his hip pull uncomfortably. "I'm not so sure about a repeat of that position," he remarks, rubbing at his side. "I'm not giving up my career just because you want to do a re-enactment of everything you see in porn."

Baekhyun's hand covers Jongin's. "Not _every_ position," he says solemnly, patting it. The easy joy slips back into his face, happy just to be with Jongin, to lean in and kiss him, rumble against his lips, "Just the really cool ones."

In this moment Jongin feels—the usual things he feels when he's with Baekhyun, really, magnified tenfold. Exasperated, amused. Endlessly devoted. He draws Baekhyun in to kiss him hard on the mouth and knows that no matter what happens next year—as with everything else they've been through—they'll make it work.


End file.
